A Winter Wonderland

As I walked into my boss’s office, I looked straight through him and out the large picture window behind his desk and screamed. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE – it’s snoooowwwwing!!!!!

The large fluffy flakes a few days before Christmas would proceed to cover the city in a blanket of white and fill my heart with holiday joy. Of course, this was much to the disappointment of my boss and a large number of other expatriates who had holiday flights to catch this morning from an airport that was closed indefinitely.

Despite the beauty of the snow covered, tree lined, city streets, walking out of the office in the evening with my plastic clogs was also a bitter reminder that snow equates to below zero temperatures. After walking for 25 minutes practically IN the snow (after all, there are holes in Crocs), a jolly passer-by thought it was cute to throw a snowball at me. I turned on my heel and bitterly responded “I don’t WANT to play!”, later laughing at how quickly the cold reality of winter can get under one’s skin.

The unexpected arrival of winter had one more trick up its sleeve, though, that nearly brought me to tears upon my return to my apartment. As I rounded the corner to my building, I looked across the courtyard and saw glimmering in the moonlight, none other than all of my week’s washings hanging on the line, covered in snow. All of my clothes were frozen solid to the line – just like my hopes of wearing anything clean for the next few days.

As some of you might be wondering, I have decided to stay in Central Asia for Christmas and New Years. While it was always my original intention to commit myself fully to the region during my contract, October and November brought with them many fleeting moments and serious contemplations of returning to Canada (or even heading somewhere warm and exotic) for a few weeks. While I am far from homesick, there are fur-faced princesses being brought home, babies being born, meals being eaten, and parties being had that I considered forking out some serious cash to be able to partake in back home. Instead, Holly and I have decided to return the cultural favour to our Tajik host-family and prepare a Christmas Dinner for them on the 25th. I’m debating killing a chicken myself (don’t worry, if it happens it will be fully documented!) and we will begin decorating the family room with all things festive next week (tree, stockings, presents). Shortly after, we will, inshallah, depart for a week-long tour across Kyrgyzstan – but more about that another time.

To all my readers spread across the world this holiday season who are far from home, I hope your hearts are filled with joy and you are surrounded with people who love you, even if they can’t be beside you.

(Photo by Rory Moylan, another expat here in Dushanbe who experienced a similar fate with his drying laundry)

For the Love of Choi

During a discussion about our choice of warm liquid beverages, a Canadian diplomat explained: “I had enough tea rammed down my throat in Afghanistan to last a life time - somehow it loses its appeal when its offered by people who may or may not have poisoned it.”

While there is little to fear in the way of devious behaviour here related to my beverages, I can now understand where this man was coming from. I have just returned from two weeks of fieldwork in the traditionally Tajik region of Rasht Valley – where cultural norms are strictly adhered to, Sunni Islam prevails, and tea is the main sustainer of life. I’ve now seen the bottom of too many teacups to remember (and unfortunately visited an equivalently large number of outhouses) and the once aromatic freshly brewed black Tajik favourite has somehow lost its appeal.

I was in the region conducting a gender case study on women’s small businesses for AKF’s project implementing partner the Mountain Societies Development Support Program. MSDSP, through the financial assistance from international donors, supports poor rural women in setting up and expanding small businesses – and I was on a research mission to find out what factors are contributing to the successes and challenges owners are experiencing, all the while trying to understand how the businesses are impacting gender equality. Eight owners were strategically selected (based on location and business type) and these women were interviewed, in addition to their husbands, village leaders, our staff workers, and groups of village housewives.

Twenty-six interviews and 5 focus groups later, I’m now left with over 150pages of notes to analyze and over 55 hours of zap (recordings) to listen to. But I drove back to Dushanbe with a lot more than research notes in my bag. The experience has opened my eyes to a lot of the realities that women, families, entrepreneurs, NGOs, and the regions of Rasht Valley are facing as they try to improve living conditions in a very difficult environment. Using open-ending questions in my interviews, I was able to probe under the surface to gain a better picture of the day-to-day lives of my respondents and how being an entrepreneur has changed their lives.

Still faltering as a post-Soviet nation – where business markets are poorly developed, the capitalistic spirit is subdued, resources are scarce and expensive, and pockets of religious conservatism and traditional gender expectations prevail – running a successful independent business in Tajikistan is not exactly easy. However, I met numerous women who have beat the odds and now run successful bakeries, confectionaries, canteens, and sewing units. Nearly all of them are filling a gap in their village’s market, thus benefiting the whole community by offering a locally available product or service at a lower price than a distant city. This often results in service providers gaining respect and status in their villages, while acting as a role model to other women interested in business.

Even in the most conservative regions that I visited, women were rebelling against religious expectations and entering the marketplace in order to provide for their families – “times are getting harder” I heard over and over again. In the face of poverty, I witnessed women going to great lengths to put food on the table and clothes on their children’s backs. During these difficult times men were simultaneously recognizing that their female family members had the capability, strength, and determination to contribute to the economic welfare of the family and became appreciative and supportive.

One of the most surprising things I realized as my research progressed was that even between the 5 districts of Rasht Valley (which is only 1 of 4 regions in Tajikistan) the geographical, economic, social, and gender differences were distinct and diverse. This was a clear reminder that there are many sides of Tajikistan to explore, and that in six months I have only just begun to scratch the surface of this complex nation.

(Note: Photos to be added to this post in the near future)
(Note: This posting is my own opinion and is in no way representative of the opinions of MSDSP, AKF, AKFT, or CIDA).

5 Degrees and Smoke

That’s right, it is literally “smoky” outside. The leaves have fallen, been swept up, and are being burned any moment it is not raining. Each evening small fires illuminate the pathways in my neighbourhood, leaving the smoke to hang heavy in the morning air. It’s pretty much a non-stop campfire around here, which is problematic when you dry your clean clothes on the line outside (unless you are Holly, who claims to actually enjoy when her clothes smell like rank bonfire).

Neighbour girls burning more than the leaves.

As a great friend of mine (and my mother) recently reminded me – it has been over a month since I have updated my Blog. I wish that I had some great reason for this negligence on my part – perhaps a booming social life, productive 80-hour work weeks, week-long black outs in the city, or exciting vacations – but in fact, it can all be linked back to two men named Jack.

Jack Bauer and Dr. Jack Shephard.
After years of avoiding television like the plague (or at least like a contraption meant to suck my brains out and distract me from school work), I recently succumbed to the lingering temptation to catch up on some lost TV time with some English DVD series floating around town. I’ve gotten lost in LOST and watched the clock tick on with 24. And so, the unexciting, inexcusable story goes. I take the work car home at 5:30pm, make dinner, and curl up in my thick korpatcha blanket in front of my 13” computer screen.

Falling into Fall

I’ve still managed to make a few crazy hikes, play American football, eat homemade burritos, see His Highness the Aga Khan in action in Tajikistan, and complete the fieldwork I mentioned a month ago – I just haven’t had “spare time” to write about it ☺

So this is my apology and my promise to get my act together.

At the mercy of inspiration (and my television),
-Heidi

What do YOU think about POVERTY?

POVERTY: pov·er·ty \ˈpä-vər-tē\ noun: the state of one who lacks a usual or socially acceptable amount of money or material possessions.

This might be what the dictionary says poverty is - but in reality it is much more complex. This year, on October 15th the Blog Action Day movement has dedicated itself to having a global discussion on poverty.

Unfortunately, I am out in the field and haven't a significant chance to write my thoughts about this complicated topic that I have invested myself in discovering for the last 8 years (if not more).

A few thoughts, though, on the topic:

CHANCE: poverty is largely determined by chance... Where you are born in the world lays out a certain path, barriers, opportunities, limitations that you will have to face for the rest of your life. As a child you play no role in whether you are fed nutritious food, have access to vaccinations and medicine, if your water is clean, if your mother knows that when you have diarrhea she needs to give you more fluids not less, if your family and community will prioritize school over working in the fields, and so on. Just as easily as you were born in Canada, you could have been born deep in a mountain valley in Tajikistan, or 100meters across the river in Afghanistan - and life and the challenges you face would have been significantly different in all.

OPPORTUNITY: It is commonly believed that poor people just need to boot-strap their way out of poverty. While I have witnessed that the poor are often much more entrepreneurial, resourceful, and hard-working than any other group - experience leads me to believe that all the effort in the world will do little in the face of wide-spread corruption, nepotism, religious and caste based discrimination, entrenched traditions, and political instability. There are many great cases where people have risen above all of these barriers, but they are the minority. For the average person living in extreme poverty, a lack of opportunities to change their own position defines their continued status.

HOPE, HAPPINESS, and the HAVE-NOTS: Despite starting off at a comparative disadvantage and then facing more unfair barriers throughout their lives - those living in poverty are often amazingly able to appreciate what small and/or priceless things they do have and maintain an astounding amount of hope that things will and can change. I like to remember a quote by good ol' Mother Teresa when I think about global poverty (overseas and at home) and what I can do to help:

"We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty. We must start in our own homes to remedy this kind of poverty."

I hope everyone has a chance today to think about what poverty means to them, how they've experienced it, or avoided it, and what they can do to learn more or do more to make a difference in the realities of over 1.2 billion people currently living in extreme poverty around the world. You could start by signing up for Stand Up, Speak Out at: http://www.standagainstpoverty.org AND participating these global discussions today!

Let the Field Work Begin

Just a quick update for my followers (aka: my mom).

I've recently been staying in the small town of Khorog, 15 hours from Dushanbe. During this time I've been hiring and training enumerators and preparing all the logistics associated with our 35 day data collection period - which begins tomorrow!

I'll be monitoring one of the data collection teams for 2 weeks in the most isolated region of Tajikistan (yes, it can get more remote). Murgab is also the poorest region of Tajikistan, as it is located on a 3,500m plateau where nothing grows and its been snowing since August. Needless to say, I am absolutely thrilled to be adventuring out to the far eastern edge of the country and can't wait to get back and write all about it.

My apologies for not updating more frequently and my thanks to all the readers,
Stay tuned for more at the end of the month,

Heidi

Twenty-Six in Tajikistan

After a confusing conversation with a fellow British expatriate, I let out a searing “ah-haaa” when I finally understood exactly what he meant by a “fancy dress party.” Max was not, in fact, referring to fancy prom dresses, but rather to dressing up in costumes – one of my FAVOURITE pastimes! Given limited materials here and the fast approaching holiday where all outrageous outfits will emerge, I soon decided that togas would be the perfect touch to my 26th birthday party in Tajikistan.

This would be my first birthday spent outside of Canada – and I had no qualms about making a big deal out of the celebration. Breaking the fasting of Ramadan a week before the 24th for work’s September Birthday Cake would serve to kick off my “Birthday Week” which would continue with an over-the-top toga party, helluva good helicopter ride, distinguished dinner, glorious gifts, and wonderful birthday wishes.

Perhaps the most exciting of the birthday activities was the Toga Party. Back home, a party such as this would speak for itself, but here the concept of tying a sheet around oneself and sporting a crown of leaves was more than foreign, it was just plain weird. Despite this, most of our Tajik friends took up the unique opportunity wear this “fancy dress” and some expatriates even went the extra mile to buy very fancy materials. Vodka was flowing, grapes were bountiful, and the dance tunes jammed until… the police came. Not really sure about the legalities of a house party, I was fully convinced that this man was serious about shutting down my party just as it was getting rolling. After 20 minutes of negotiating, I announced to the party that I’d have to go to home to get my passport (the party was held at a friend’s house) and would hopefully be back quickly. I pleaded for people not leave or remove their Togas, just as Nira brought out a birthday cake for me. I cringed at the inopportune timing and glanced to the officer that he would continue being patient while I blew out the candles. That’s riiiiight. I still didn’t get it. The birthday joke was on me – and the KGB didn’t actually come to take me away. In Tajikistan everyone has friends, even ones who will show up in uniform during their duty to scare birthday girls. The party went on!

Friends from work gathered in Greek-style

The biggest surprise during my birthday week was the arrival of a large package from my mom. Admittedly, I had requested many of its contents in a guilty email labeled “care about me package” but the excitement still built as I lugged the box home, sat on my living room floor, and pulled out each item one-by-one. Bags of spices, books, magazines, flip-flops, a water bottle, marshmallows, gum, stir-fly sauce, salad dressing mix and a few special birthday gifts – all made their way in 22 days. In addition to the expected package, I also received a card from a former lacrosse teammate now living in Australia. She knew I was away and sent it “just because everyone loves to get mail.” Thanks Kathleen!! To Holly’s dismay, I also received 2 candles and a card in a small packet from her mom. She’s still waiting for her large package and we hope the Tajik mail doesn’t live up to its bad reputation before its arrival. I’ve never been one to celebrate birthdays with many gifts, but these special ones sent so far really were meaningful (yes, my curry powder is heart-warming ;). THANKS SO MUCH!

By far the most anticipated birthday activity was my helicopter ride to Khorog in eastern Tajikistan. During work planning meetings, I strategically planned our journey for the 24th and crossed my fingers that weather wouldn’t ground AKDN’s private “heli.” Waking up to clear skies, my boss, co-worker, Holly, and I boarded the 12-seater in eager anticipation of the beautiful views, as we would head out of Dushanbe and over the Pamiri mountain ranges. The trip did not disappoint – I oohed and awhed at each breath-taking turn the helicopter made around a snow capped mountain or over a bright blue mountain lake. I was unable to wipe the smile below off my face for the entire hour!



While this ride would have been gift enough, turning 26 in Tajikistan wouldn’t have been just right without a communal meal and the consumption of vodka. With fellow IDMer’s Erin and Holly and 2 of my co-workers, we dinned at AKDN’s riverfront Serena Hotel. In addition to a wonderful meal, we chatted about development, future plans, and reminisced about the most memorable times in our lives (thus far). We cheered to years past and times to come and threw back shot after shot of Tajikistan’s finest vodka.

Just when I thought my birthday was over, I went online Thursday morning to find that numerous friends from home had sent me special birthday messages. Their warm wishes and birthday love traveled farther than ever this year to warm my heart and make me smile that I would be so lucky to enter my mid-twenties in a foreign country with a "family" extending six continents.

Iskander Cool

I’ve always found it somewhat amazing how the calendar can turn to September and everything seems to change. A different season begins, a new “year” starts, and mind-sets alter from the work life to the different skills required for learning. While this is the experience of a (perpetual) student living in Ontario, I imagined working this autumn in Tajikistan would hold something else in store. As the air became too cool to keep our window open at night, a new fleet of children hit the streets in school uniforms, and a different work-phase was initiated, I realized that I was wrong. September was September – but in order to start it off right we would need to first make some (North American-esque) Labour Day long weekend plans!

"Mountain Gem" here we come

Luckily, with Tajikistan’s Independence Day falling on Tuesday, September the 9th this wouldn’t be too difficult, as taking one day of holiday would easily become four. After some disappointing news that the Uzbekistan border would be conveniently closed between September 1st and 12th, we pulled out our map and looked for somewhere more local to explore. Additionally restricted by the daily closure of the main road heading north out of Dushanbe between 8am and 8pm, we pulled together a mini-bus and a group of six to head to the base of the Fan Mountains at the renowned Iskander-Kul mountain lake. Holly, Nira and myself were joined by our local Tajik friends Farid, Nido, and Delaire, who would quickly turn into irreplaceable allies in our navigation of the Tajik natural world.

Our group, plus a random old man who insisted being in our photo

After a 4am departure and a predictably bumpy ride, we reached the former Soviet holiday camp (turbaza) tucked along side a magnificently large turquoise lake. With the sun still warming up the stony beach, we grabbed our carpets and ground mats and sprawled out to make up for lost sleep. Apparently the turbaza’s 30-odd family cabins are generally booked solid in the summer, but given the time of year we were one of only 2 or 3 groups at the site. This left us ample opportunity to explore, meditate, read, take photos, and chat away the days at ease. At meal times we collected firewood, peeled potatoes and carrots, and heated the cauldron to prepare soup, shashlek (meet kabobs), or sheer bringe (sweet milky rice).

Holly chilling after getting a "massage" (aka: skin ripped off her spine)

Farid is not so happy that he has to cook for 3 useless women. Not quite homemakers yet - and more than happy to sit back, watch, and eat the rewards. Ha!
Delaire's shashlek starts off mouth-watering, but it was the vegetarians who were laughing in the end.Nira and I doing out own version of the "Tree Pose."

After a wonderfully lazy day we stoked the main fire, gathered around with the guitar and a bottle of vodka (like it or not, it’s not truly Tajik without it), and laughed the night away. I retired to our waterfront tent around midnight, after first sitting under the bright moon and sky full of stars by the waterside. What a wonderful escape from the city. What a great start to a new season… which reminded me that at 2195m this was not a “summer night” and I was freezing. I’d put on some more clothes before heading to bed.

View from our tent.

Sunday morning we woke up energized and ready to walk to the nearby waterfall. During the still of the morning you could hear the water rushing in the distance and as we approached there was no doubt that we were coming nearer to the source of the sound. Iskander-Kul fed into a smaller river that gained speed until pounded through a narrow corridor and fell 30 meters into the lower mountains. As the water crashed below us, it generated a cool mist that met the morning light forming a beautiful rainbow. Needless to say, we were all infatuated with this natural wonder and observed in awe for quite a long time.

Getting as close as possible to the water crashing below us!

The perfect fairytale rainbow at this magical mountain waterfall.

When we returned to the turbaza the lake sat waiting for us. A new Danish friend of ours, Arne, had jumped in the frigid waters earlier and encouraged us to do the same upon our return. The sun was now high in the sky and the beads of sweat rolled down my forehead. It was now or never and I was sure I wouldn’t have a problem recovering from hypothermia at this time of the day. Moments later Holly, Nira, and I had swiftly put on our swimming suits and were running for the lake. In one fluid motion we ran in, went under, screamed, and ran out. The water was freezing, but refreshing, and would substitute for the lack of showers at the site. Our dip would also serve to pressure all the guys into proving their manliness – one icy submersion at a time.

So much nicer to look at then to be in!

Our not-so-long weekend ended Sunday night as we packed our things and left in time for the road to re-open at 8pm. Despite ominous sign that our driver was carsick the journey started off quite smoothly. Without delay, we entered the infamously bad mountain pass tunnel that lacks ventilation, is consistently flooded, and takes about 30 minutes to navigate. Half way through the tunnel a middle-aged man stopped our car and motioned for us to open our mouths wide and cover our ears. Moments later a massive boom vibrated deep throughout the tunnel – shaking the car and our eardrums. Apparently, they had needed to explode some piece of the mountain nearby and didn’t find it necessary to stop the cars before entering the tunnel (or do it during the day). I admit is was pretty cool to feel my heart shake off-beat and to know that such a thing would likely never happen in Canada, but I had to wonder how this scenario would have been presented in any type of safety protocols.

After a few hours our car came to a stop again, but this time I barely flinched at the traffic police roadblock that cause consistent stops during any Tajik traveling. Since our driver was passed out in the passenger seat, Nido grabbed his license and Holly’s video camera and headed into the temporary police shack. The initial thinking that such a move was not the best way to make friends and avoid tickets, was confirmed as he quickly came running out and yelling for us to take the camera, hide it, and not to delete anything. Sick of inconsistencies and corruption, Nido had caught the officer on tape trying to double ticket him illegally. After some quick maneuvering (and an officer who’d never seen a video camera before) we were able to convince him that we had deleted the video and were able to carry on.

We reached home at 1am, crawled into bed, and went to work Monday morning. With that I realized that not only had I fit a long weekend holiday into 2 days, but that autumn had officially begun and I was now beginning Tajikistan: Season 2.

"If I wanted to see a photos of Takijim-a-what-i-stan I'd just buy post-cards." I disagree, but fine, I was there too...see.